


dear doctor

by Hannah (hannahoftheinternet)



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Doctors & Physicians, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Fluff, Healing, M/M, Medicine, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 13:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19274227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahoftheinternet/pseuds/Hannah
Summary: Paul is injured in combat, and Hugh happens to be the doctor on duty.





	dear doctor

The vascular regenerator hums an unending, discordant note as Hugh holds it an inch over the bruise on Paul’s inner arm, close to his cybernetic ports. The purple color of the blotch is particularly shocking against Paul’s pale skin, and he twists his arm to examine another mark on his hand, this one more blue.

“Hold still,” Hugh says, and Paul drops his hand, tilting his arm so that Hugh has a better angle. “Thank you.” Paul is jittery from  _ Discovery _ ’s shoot-out with a Klingon vessel, the barrel rolls that Detmer executed, the jump back to friendly space, and the loss of artificial gravity in his lab from the ship’s injuries. His shaking has subsided, but he’s still jarred, mentally. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Just tired, I guess.” Paul studies his skin, returned to its normal color. Hugh points the regenerator’s red beam at another bruise, and Paul watches the blue fade back into his standard almost-white. He never gets tired of watching Starfleet’s medical equipment work its magic.

Hugh shuts off the regenerator, silencing its whine, and places it back on the tray carrying all kinds of doctor’s tools. He takes up the dermal regenerator next, and says, “You’re bleeding through your uniform.”

God, Paul hadn’t even noticed that. But, yeah, he is. There’s a small patch of blood stemming from his left shoulder, probably from when he snagged himself on the sharp edge of a table or console. His uniform is ripped too. He unzips his jacket and slides it off, pushing down his undershirt to reveal his bleeding shoulder. “If it scars, we’ll match.”

Hugh smiles and aims the dermal regenerator at the wound. “If you want to keep it, you better tell me now.”

Shaking his head, Paul leans back and closes his eyes. “We can’t all have sexy scars,” he says matter-of-factly. The unpleasant sensation of regeneration is starting again and he presses the pads of his fingers into his palms. He might like to watch his skin knit itself back together, but he hates the feeling. Though, it’s nothing compared to stabbing himself with spore injectors.

The pinching sensation fades and he opens his eyes. The cut was at such an angle that he couldn’t see it well, but he knows that it’s gone. Erased from existence. “I think you got everything,” he says, mentally feeling for anything they might have missed.

“I notice that you’re in here more than the average crewmember,” Hugh says, and he gets that note in his voice that informs Paul that he’s going to be teased. “Is your job really that dangerous, or is there something else?”

“You caught me.” Paul smiles the smile he has reserved for his husband. “I’m always here because I’m madly in love with you.”

“Good thing we’re married.” Hugh wears his wedding ring on a chain around his neck, alongside his Starfleet Medical pendant, tucked under his shirt. It’s much more endearing than it should be.

“Good thing,” he echoes. Deciding that he’s fully healed, he stands and proffers his arm. “Want me to walk you home?”

“Aren’t you romantic tonight?” Hugh looks a combination of pleased and disappointed as he gently pushes Paul’s arm aside, saying, “I would love to, but I’m on duty until 2200.”

“No point in going home, then. I’ll go back to Engineering.” He’s preparing to leave, but Hugh catches him before he can take more than a step.

“Like hell you will. Go home. Doctor’s orders. I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

Paul grudgingly complies. The closer he gets to his quarters, the more thanks he gives Hugh for making him go home. His muscles are sore, and the idea of an old book and falling asleep with his husband is just too good to pass up.

**Author's Note:**

> Aren't I productive? This is the second thing I've posted today.
> 
> Comments are a writer's best friend.


End file.
